Always Follow Your Dreams
by Leah Sora-Parker
Summary: Nellie's dream was always to be a cook when she grew up. She didn't know the sacrifices that came with it. Or if she could face them. * NellieXOC * Oneshot* Dedicated to Nova Mirage for winning first place in my Oddest Couples Contest. Hope you like it!


**Dedicated to Nova Mirage, my first place Oddest Couples Contest Winner! Sorry it took so long! Translations (*) at the bottom.**

* * *

Nellie Gomez had always known that she wanted to be a chef when she grew up, even at the tender age of five when her first lesson's started. Although the memory was hazy at best to the now twenty-three year old, she knew that she would never forget her mother's smiling face as she leaned down to help her stir the long forgotten contents of the bowl that little Nellie held. The action made Nellie's face light up in a smile and she giggled, mesmerized by her mother's elegant yet deft movements. Though, her smile soon fell a tiny bit as she realized that she could never be as good as her mother.

"What is it Nellie?" her mother gently prodded, hiding a knowing smile as she watched her young daughter pout. Nellie, teary-eyed, sniffed and looked up at her with big innocent eyes.

"I'll never be as good as you," Nellie murmured sadly, attitude and shoulders deflating at such depressive thoughts. Her mother stayed silent a moment before scooping Nellie up in a warm hug, completely ignoring the sound of the bowl crashing to the ground. All her focus was on her now confused but slightly happy daughter.

"Don't give up Nellie," she whispered, squeezing the dazed girl tighter. "You can do it, _mon petit chef.*_"

Nellie clung to her, giving her own loving embrace back. "_Oui, Maman.*_"

**-A-**

At the age of seven, Nellie was practically a culinary expert of French cuisine. She spent all of her time cooking and cooking and cooking until her parents finally had to put their foot down: She could only cook three meals per day (breakfast, lunch, and dinner) and some snacks in between. Nellie missed the twinkling glint of amusement in their eyes. It was during one of these days that Nellie's small world of cooking became a bit bigger.

"What are you making _mi cachorrito chef*_?" her father asked, leaning against the kitchen counter as he watched Nellie cut up the tomatoes into smaller and smaller pieces with each passing minute.

"Well," Nellie began awkwardly, glancing up at father in anxiousness and flushing a pale pink. "I was... er, you know? ...Kinda of hoping to make one of _Papa's _dishes."

Her father stared at her a minute before laughing. Nellie's blushed even harder, protesting, "I-It's not that funny!"

However, when her father came over, picked her up, and twirled her around like her mother had done so long yet not so long ago, Nellie was laughing along too. And, she only pouted a little bit when he told her she had cut up the tomatoes too small.

**-L-**

It was at nine when Nellie's life took two major turning points. One: Her mother grew ill. Deathly ill. She wasn't allowed out of the hospital and Nellie would be unable to visit her for days after her various operations and treatments and surgeries. Nobody knew exactly why her mother was ill, or maybe they did but never had the heart to tell her, and her condition only served to worsen. Nonetheless, she and Amandine*, her younger sister who had been born one year prior, visited her mother every chance they got, often bringing Nellie's own home-cooked food. ("The hospital food is made for the dead!" her mother complained every time.)

The second thing was she met Teacher.

**-W-**

Teacher wasn't really a teacher. In fact, Nellie, at that time in her childhood, didn't know exactly what Teacher's name was. He was an average sized boy, Nellie was a full head shorter at the time because she had yet to reach her growth spurt, with average blonde hair and average brown eyes. But his _smile_? His _attitude_? His _whole being_? When Nellie first encountered him, she wasn't sure whether to laugh or scream and cry or run away in fear.

She had been heading home from an after-school cooking course that her school held for very talented individuals (mostly Nellie), running late because half way through her preparations she had to run to the other side of the school for the ingredients, when an arguably small (Nellie had said it was most definitely small at the time, Teacher has yet to agree) hand reached out in front of her to stop her from running out into the street. Only seconds later did a car rush past, running over the spot that would have been Nellie. She stared for a moment before slowly following the hand up to the arm, and the arm up to the shoulder, and the shoulder up to the neck, and finally the neck up to the face. He glared at her, mouth moving rapidly and probably ranting about how dumb she was to not look both ways. Luckily, she had her trusty earbuds jammed into her ears, blocking any sound the former could throw at her.

Finally, she took them out and asked, "What?"

The boy's face took on an angry flush, faintly reminding Nellie of a tomato. He let out a string of curses that Nellie was sure her father would spank her then wash her mouth out with soap for even thinking about saying them before regaining his calm and spitting out, "Are you intentionally stupid or were you just born that way?"

Nellie gaped at him for a moment before retorting, "And are you just naturally a prick, or does it run in the family?" Both glared at each other for a second before Nellie's façade cracked first and they both ended up in an uproarious fit of laughter. When they both settled down, the boy gave Nellie a cocky grin and held out his hand.

"I'm a teach at the new college, but you can call me Teacher," he said, shaking Nellie's hand with an air as if he had just finished making a successful business transaction. Nellie rolled her eyes at him.

"Well, 'Teacher,'" she said, making little air quotes when she said 'Teacher.' "I'm Nellie Gomez, soon to be the world's best chef."

"Oh, is that so?" he asked with an impressed air, though Nellie suspected he was teasing her.

"That's right."

"Then, I guess we have a lot in common..."

**-A-**

It turned out that Teacher was also a student, a culinary student at that. However many talents he had though, cooking was not one of them.

**-Y-**

At fifteen, Nellie was an accomplished chef while Teacher was so-so. Amandine was now seven, going on eight, and determined to follow in her sister's footsteps. They still visited Maman and Nellie still brought her home-cooked food, but many things were different now. Teacher now accompanied them whenever they visited Mama and Amandine helped Nellie when cooking Maman's food. Though as Nellie grew older, Maman grew sicker. On the day of Nellie's (who was now eighteen years old) make-it-or-break-it-college-exam, Maman was scheduled to have surgery-her last. It seemed like her own make-it-or-break-it-exam.

"Papa," Nellie, who was still in her bedroom, murmured, her questioning eyes boring into her father's back. He seemed to stiffen, as if he knew she was looking at him, then relaxed, jerking a thumb in her direction over his shoulder.

"Nellie," he began. "You know what they say about new opportunities? When one door closes..."

"...another door opens?"

"And what do you do when it opens?"

"Oh, I don't know," Nellie said sarcastically, patience wearing thin. "Jump out a window."

Her father laughed. "Well, in your case Nellie, that might be true!"

"What-"

"Amandine and I will be in the car, it's time to decide."

**-S-**

Nellie spent a total of five seconds after her father left in straight silence.

**-F-**

"NELLIE!"

The sound came from her bedroom window.

**-O-**

"TEACHER!"

Was her answer to the bike-riding teen outside.

**-L-**

"Are you sure about this Nellie?"

"Pedal faster! I don't want to be late!"

"But-"

"Teacher. I need to do this. Maman always used to tell me, 'Go for it Nellie! If it's you, surely your dreams will come true!' I can't break that promise."

"...I understand."

"Thank you."

"..."

"..."

"..._Amour*._"

"What?"

"M-my name. It's Amour."

"Oh, well..."

"I know, I know. My parents are a bunch of romantic junkies or something."

Nellie laughed then gently smiled. "Thank you for everything... _Mi Amour*._"

"H-hey, don't go mixing languages!"

Nellie laughed again.

**-L-**

Teacher, or rather Amour, didn't notice when Nellie tightened her grip around him. Or maybe he just didn't mind.

**-O-**

It took two hours to finish the test, and another hour and a half for the first half of the results (the ones with Nellie in it) to come out.

Maman's surgery took four.

**-W-**

"Wait for me, MAMAN! I passed!"

**-Y-**

Nellie and Teacher arrived at the hospital at five.

**-O-**

Maman passed away at six.

**-U-**

"Sometimes, life is cruel Amour."

**-R-**

"I know, Nellie."

**-D-**

"Do you think she'll forgive me?"

**-R-**

"I don't think she was ever mad at you."

**-E-**

"I love you, _m__i Amour_."

**-A-**

"I love you, too, _ma Amor*._"

**-M-**

The next day was Maman's funeral.

Nellie cried on Amour's shoulder.

He let her.

**-S-**

Twenty-year old Nellie was now face with indecision. She had just come back from the clue hunt (and hey, they _won!_) and it would be her first time seeing Amour ever since she had left for the job. Currently, she was faced with two options: ring the doorbell or run like hell. She opted the latter of the two.

"Hey! Where are you running off to?"

Nellie stopped. "Back to a life."

Amour snorted. "I guess you're fresh out of luck then."

Nellie turned around and smiled. "Yeah, I guess so."

Amour gestured inside. "Well, what are you waiting for."

Nellie took her first step. "Your invitation, 'Teacher.'"

"Welcome home, _ma Amor._"

"I'm home, _mi Amour._"

**-A-L-W-A-Y-S- -F-O-L-L-O-W -Y-O-U-R -D-R-E-A-M-S-**

**~FIN~**

**Translation Notes:**

***mon petit chef=my (endearingly) small chef**

***Oui, Maman=Yes, Mom/Mama**

***mi cachorrito chef=my (endearingly) small chef**

***Amandine=She who must be loved. (It could also mean the French term for a garnish of almonds or a type of potato. :D)**

***Amour=Love/Lover**

***Mi (Spanish) Amour (French)= My Love/My Lover**

***Ma (French) Amor (Spanish)=My Love/My Lover**

**What happens after the clue hunt (A.K.A. Vespers) is up to you! :D**

**...Or me, if people want me to write more. ;)**


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